


Birthday Boy

by lumbeam



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Beyonce induced sexy-times, Birthday Sex, F/M, Lapdance, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, Stripping, bitter old man ennui
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumbeam/pseuds/lumbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael turns fifty and Trevor decides to throw him a party at the Vanilla Unicorn. Amanda also has her own ways of planning some fun for him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, I love Michael/Amanda so much. They're garbage and terrible for each other but that just makes me love them more. Enjoy! :)

As soon as Michael wakes up, it hits him. Today is the beginning of the end. Well, every day has been the beginning of the end, but now he can’t push away the fact any longer.

He’s fifty. 

_ Fifty is just as important as any other number. It’s not that big of a deal. _ From the walk of the bed to the shower, this mantra seems to work. It all crumbles when Michael strips out of his pajamas and looks at his naked body in the mirror. Not much more that a disappointed sigh comes out of his lips as his eyes trail down his scarred, paunchy body. He’s not happy with it now, and it’s only going to get worse from here.

He runs his rough hands over his face, resisting the urge to groan. He steps into the shower, avoiding looking at his reflection again. 

After attempting to scrub off his shame, he gets dressed and goes downstairs.Amanda’s at the counter, eating a bowl of the freshest quinoa LS has to offer (so says the packaging).    
  
“Happy birthday morning, Michael.” She says as Michael pours himself a cup of coffee. 

“Yeah yeah, don’t remind me.”   
  
“Hey, just be glad I didn’t make you a breakfast with the number ‘50’ spelled out in bacon.”   
  
“Thanks,  _ Skylar _ .” Michael refrains from telling her that he still hasn’t finished the first season of _ Breaking Bad _ .

She smiles back at him as she takes another bite of her quinoa. “Have any plans?”

“I'm going to try my best about just treating it like any other day.”   
  
“Like soaking in the sun and day drinking?”   
  
“Ideally, yes.”   
  
“We could go out to dinner with the kids and pick up a small cake afterwards.”   
  
Michael grimaces and takes a sip of his black coffee.   
  
“Are you just upset it’s a landmark number?”    
  
He doesn’t respond. Amanda has her answer. 

“Oh Michael, it’s not  _ that  _ big of a deal. You don’t look…. _ that _ bad for a fifty year-old man.”

“Thanks.” He scoffs.   
  
“All I'm saying is that you could really make this a blowout. Think about it, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry.” He responds in his usual sarcastic tone.

\-------------------

Michael is halfway to starting his day drinking in the sun when his phone pings. He pushes his sunglasses up to his forehead and he squints at the screen. It’s a text from Trevor.

"HEY BIRTHDAY BOY CUM 2 THE VANILLA UNICORN @ 8 TONIGHT!!!!!!"

He sighs and types out a response. “I'm probably just gonna stay in with Amanda tonight. I'm not in the mood to go out.” He hits send.   
  
Almost instantly, Trevor responds. “MICHAEL U NEVER TURN DOWN A CHANCE TO LOOK @ TITS YOU FUCKING LIAR”

Michael starts to type out an excuse when another text from Trevor comes in. “I’M NOT TAKING NO FOR AN ANSWER OK BE THERE OR ELSE!!!!!!! I KNOW WHERE U LIVE”  
  
Looks like that's that.

\-------------------   
  


Michael goes inside and finds Amanda in the living room. “I guess I have birthday plans.” 

“Let me guess. With Trevor?” 

“At the Vanilla Unicorn.” Michael, admittedly, is kind of worried. The last time Trevor hosted a party for him, he woke up the next day with a shitty tattoo on his shoulder blade and a nasty venereal disease.

“I would say that’s a midlife crisis tactic, but--”   
  
“Could you be my DD? Who fuckin’ knows how long he’s going to keep me there.”

She sighs slightly. “I guess. As long as you don’t stick your dick into any of the dancers just because you see it as a free pass.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Mand, I won’t. It’s been two years, okay?” 

“So you say. Maybe you’ll get a birthday present later tonight if you’re a good birthday boy.”

She doesn’t elaborate and Michael doesn’t try to dissect what she means. “Okay,” he says in a neutral tone. 

\-------------------

Later that night, a little before 8, Michael is trying to decide on an outfit. Casual or formal? Which looks less pathetic when celebrating at a strip club? He chooses his navy suit. At best, he’ll look like an off-shift accountant. At worst, well…like some washed-up middle aged fuck who has to pay to look at naked women. Scoffing, Michael shuts the closet door and heads downstairs.  
  
“Ready to go?” Amanda asks, twirling her keys around her index finger. Michael nods as he heads out the door.   
  
In the car, Michael keeps checking his phone to see if there’s any other frantic messages from Trevor. There isn’t, of course; he’s more of a text bomber, so much so that Michael often has to remember to shut off his phone before bedtime.   
  
“When do you think you’re going to be done?” Amanda asks.   
  
“Fuck, knowin’ Trevor, he’d want me to be there for the entire weekend.”   
  
“Okay, but realistically speaking?”   
  
“Probably around 1? I’ll call you.”   


“The only thing is that I have to be at the house for most of the night. I'm getting some work done in the bedroom.”   
  
Michael glances at her suspiciously, but doesn’t press any further.   
  
“I know it’s a weird time slot, but it’s the only time I could fit in.” Amanda quickly explains. Michael checks his phone again.   
  
She pulls up to the Vanilla Unicorn, silently happy she doesn’t have to step inside and make niceties with Trevor.   
  
“Have fun, babe!” She says to Michael as he steps out of her car. “Play nice!”    
  
He holds up his hand as an acknowledgement of her order as he goes up to the front door. The bouncers greet him by name, and he isn’t as bothered by it as he should be.    
  
The instant he goes inside the club, he’s hit with the aroma of hairspray, body oil, and stale cigarettes. And, just slightly, his shoulders relax.    
  
“THERE HE IS, THE BIRTHDAY BOY!” Trevor’s voice booms out over the overplayed pop songs on the stereo. He’s stuffed into a tight ( _ tight,  _ moose knuckle-forming) plaid suit, looking as jazzed up as ever to be a party host. Michael tenses up defensively as he walks over to him. Trevor grabs him and holds him in a tight embrace. “How does it feel to be over the hill, M?”   
  
“Bout the same. How does it feel to dress up as a used car salesman?”   


“ _ OOhh _ , close but not quite. Guess your biting wit is fading along with your boyish looks,  _ amigo _ !” Trevor flashes him a toothy grin and Michael gives him the finger in response. “But enough of that, it’s time to  _ celebrate _ with friends! Well, the ones you didn’t betray, anyway!” 

He guides Michael over to the birthday boy booth, or B3 as it says on the banner above the space. It’s haphazardly decorated with sad balloons, dirty underwear, and torn streamers. Michael can’t help but see it as a metaphor. 

In the booth is Franklin and Lamar, looking at the dancer on stage. 

“Hey, uh--” Lamar says, standing up from the booth, “I didn’t really get you anything, homie. I was kinda worried you’d clap me if I didn’t get something good, so--”   
  
“Nah, it’s fine. Enjoy yourself, man.” Michael says back. 

“Don’t have-ta tell me twice, bruh.” Lamar says, walking closer to the stage. 

“Hey kid, glad you could make it.”  Michael says, turning his attention to Frank.  
  
“Yeah, well...after what we’ve been through, it’s kind of a done deal, y’know?” Franklin says, holding out his fist. 

Michael bumps his fist against his. “You got that right. Here’s hoping Trevor doesn’t torch the place or kill anyone. That’s the only present I want today.”

“Michael, Michael, Michael! The night is young! Don’t close off later options!” Trevor cuts in. “CANDY, BRING THE BIRTHDAY BOY SOME SHOTS!”

“No, no, T, that’s--”  
  
Trevor digs his nails into Michael’s shoulder. “SHOTS FOR THE BIRTHDAY BOY!”    
  
It’s going to be a long night.

\-------------------

Somewhere between the fourth lap dance and the eighth shot, Michael gets up to go to the bathroom. He stumbles into one of the dirty stalls, nearly falling face first into the toilet. After regaining his composure he manages to get out his dick. He’s been hard on and off for most of the night, frustrated that he’s had to turn down so many offers of certain “services” of the dancers. It’s amazing he’s able to get soft enough in order to pee.   
  
He holds one of his hands against the wall for balance. He looks down on the metal wall and he finds a hole crudely cut through the stall wall. Scratched-in arrows are all directed to it.  
  
Of course Trevor would have a glory hole. Of _course._   
  
Michael finally finishes up peeing and he makes his way back to the B3.   
  
“Michael!!” Trevor yells, “I was afraid I was going to have to send in a search team!”  
  
“Nice glory hole!” He yells back at him. “Now I know where you spend your spare time!”  
  
“AWW, disappointed I wasn’t there?” Trevor said, passing him another shot.   
  
Michael downs it without even hesitating. “You wish!”  
  
The night continues on. Lap dance after lap dance, shot after shot. Michael lost count of how many shots he’s taken and how many pairs of tits he’s seen. A couple of strippers sit on either side of him for most of the night, and his hands roam over their silicone-accentuated bodies.  
  
He sinks into the booth, pulling the dancers closer to him. Then he hears the booming announcer over all the other commotion.   
  
“NOW IT’S TIME FOR OUR STAR OF THE NIGHT! BACK AFTER A LONG ABSENCE: KRYSTAL!”  
  
Michael feels his stomach drop. He looks over at Trevor, who’s busy talking to wade.   
  
“T, T!” He yells. “The fuck is this?!” 

“Krystal is dancing tonight!” He says, casting a gaze over the table, his wolfish grin somehow more sinister under the neon lights. “Why are you worried?”

“You fuckin’ know--”   
  
“HERE SHE IS!  _ KRRRRRRRRRYSTAAAAAAAAAALLLLLL _ !” The announcer hypes up the crowd. A woman that definitely isn’t Amanda (née Krystal) walks out with a feather boa.    
  
Michael sinks back into the seat, wiping the stress-sweat from his forehead. Trevor laughs at his relief. 

“Sorry, did I get your hopes up?” Trevor asks.   
  
“Somethin’ like that, you fuckin’ asshole!”

Trevor motions to the bartender to get another shot for Michael.    
  


\-------------------

Michael’s lost his suit jacket. His dress shirt is stained with beer (all  _ thanks _ to Wade not watching where he was going), and the body oil is mixing with his sweat. He pulls away from the dancers that have accompanied him for the night and he walks out the front of the club. His phone’s clock bores straight through his eyeballs.  _ 1:32 _ .

For a fifty year-old wash-up, he still knows how to party. (Thanks to Trevor,  _ begrudgingly _ .) That being said, it’s time to go home and chug some water to prevent the Hangover from Hell to hit him like a pile of bricks. He adjusts himself in his pants, trying to make his residual erection less hard. 

After accidentally calling Trevor and then Dr. Friedlander ( _ fuckin’ _ speed-dial), he manages to callAmanda.    
  
She picks up after a couple rings. “Hey birthday boy.”   
  
“Don’t...call me that.” He replies dumbly, finding his tongue hard to form words. “I need a...riiide.”   
  
He can hear her laugh. “I’ll be there in ten. Think you can manage to stay out of strippers until then?”   
  
He sighs heavily and rests his hand against the brick exterior. “Yes....oh, bring water. Thanksss.”

\-------------------

Trevor, hopped up on god knows what at this point in the night, finds him and berates him for going so home so early. “T,” Michael starts, “  I'm not in my twenties anymore.” He sounds remorseful for not staying all night.   
  
“Wonder who’s suckin’ the life out of you?” Trevor asks. As if on cue,Amanda pulls up in her car. “There we go!”

Michael pats Trevor’s shoulder. “Thanks for the party, T. Glad I don’t have another shitty tattoo to show for it.”

T laughs. “I’ll make that for a different milestone, M. Sssssay, maybe when you turn 100?”

  
“Wishful thinking!” Michael calls out as he closes the car door. Amanda drives off, and Trevor waves at them as if he was a dad watching his child leave for school. 

“So. You had fun?” Amanda asks, handing him a huge bottle of fancy artisanal water.    
  


After Michael is done chugging half the bottle, he answers her. “A little too much fun. I behaved, though.”

“Good.” She says, smiling.    
  
“They announced this one dancer, and, and her name was Krystal? My heart nearly jumped out of my fuckin’ chest.”   
  
“Michael, I'm not the only stripper that has ever been named that, okay?”   
  
“I know, but T was giving me this  _ fuckin’ evil _ grin and it was makin’ me so nervous.”

“Nervous in a good way or a bad way?”   
  
“....Both?”   
  
Amanda nods, thinking about Michael freaking out at the mention of her old stage name. 

Michael takes another gulp of water and looks over at his wife. She’s wearing sweatpants and a baseball cap. “Were you sleepin’?”   
  
“No, just wanted to be comfortable. I wasn’t sure when you were going to be done.”

Michael nods, satisfied with her answer.

\-------------------

They pull into the garage. After she takes her keys out of the ignition, she tells Michael: “You should make a kale smoothie. It will help with your hangover.”

  
“Whatever you say, mand.” Michael says, too worn out to ask if she can make it for him. 

He watches her make a beeline for upstairs as he clumsily pulls out the blender. It takes twice as long to make it, thanks to his complete lack of sobriety.  
  
Kale smoothie in hand, Michael goes up the stairs. Each step is laborious, and it’s hard for him to keep his balance. His bedroom door is closed, which is odd, and he can hear the bassline of music coming from the room. And...is that peach body oil he smells? Or is that just the residual smell of body oil on his clothes and skin?

Michael steps into the room. The bed has been moved off to the side, and there is a chair where it used to be. In front of the chair is a stripper pole. So  _ that’s  _ what Amanda had done earlier tonight.

This night has definitely taken a turn for the better. And here Michael thought he was just going to watch a shitty movie by himself until he falls asleep from boredom and drunkenness.

Hands shaking with excitement, Michael sets the drink on the vanity and he looks around for Amanda. He calls her name once or twice, but she doesn’t answer.

And that’s when he hears the opening snaps of Beyoncé’s “partition.”

_ Driver roll up the partition, please~ _

Out walks Amanda in the outfit they wore when they first met: purple lingerie paired with black fishnet stockings. Her makeup is extreme and only meant for the night time. Michael can’t help but take his time drinking her in. 

“Hey baby, do you want a dance?” She asks in the put-upon voice she used back in North Yankton when she was working. 

“Fuckin’ A, I do.” Michael says, trying to wrap his hands around her. She steps back from him and motions to the chair. He obliges. 

Before going straight to the lap dance, she shows off her pole dancing skills. Due to the fitness classes she’s been taking for the past few years, she’s even better than she was back in the 90s. Michael watches her with even more intensity than he watched the other dancers earlier tonight. A few times, he catches himself leaning as close as he can to her. His hands lazily rub at his thighs as he watches her spin around the pole. She tosses her hair and winks at him, continuing to show off her impressive dance moves.

After an adequate amount of time of showing off, Amanda moves closer to the chair, swiveling her hips. A slower song comes on. It’s definitely a song they used to have sex to.

“What’s your name, baby?” She asks in that light voice. 

“Amanda, come  _ on-- _ ” 

“ _ What’s your name _ ?” She asks more sternly this time, a smile still plastered on her face.

“Ah, Michael. What’s yours, gorgeous?”

She swishes her hair. “Krystal.”

“Is that your real name?” Michael asks with a smirk.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” Krystal answers in a sing-song voice. Michael chuckles slightly. 

Neither of them say anything for a while. Michael relaxes a bit more into the chair, spreading out his thighs. Krystal moves between his legs and she places her hands on his knees. 

“Why are you here tonight, babe?” She asks, cutting through Michael’s stupor.

“What?” He asks, the alcohol clouding his brain. 

“What brings you to this club? Special occasion?” She moves an inch closer to him. 

Michael laughs lightly. “Yeah, ah...it’s my birthday.”

“Ohh,  _ birthday boy! _ ” She says excitedly. Michael can’t help but become aroused at the way she says it in that voice. It’s the first time tonight he isn’t one bit annoyed by the term. “How old? You don’t have to answer.” She whispers the second part with a knowing smile.

“Fifty.” Michael mumbles, as if she doesn’t already know. 

“Nothing wrong with an older man.” She brushes her hand against his face. “Did you get any presents?”

“No, but--” Michael says, all charm and cheesiness, “--hopefully you’ll be my present.”

“Maybe I will be,  _ Michael _ .” There’s that voice again. “You have to be good though.”

“Oh, don’t worry baby, I'm  _ great _ .” He says in a cocksure tone, placing one of his hands on her waist

“Ah, ah,” Krystal says, stepping back. “No touching the dancers.”

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious.” Michael grits, leaning forward. She takes another step back.

“You can have me,” Krystal says, “if I can do whatever. I. Want. That means you not touching me.”

Michael relaxes back in the velvet chair. “Fine, easy.” He says, as if he hasn’t had blue balls all night. “Do your worst.” He dares, knowing he’ll suffer later.

Krystal smiles wildly at this dare. Another sensual song comes on. She swivels her hips slowly, letting her hair fall in front of her face just so she can flip it out of the way dramatically. She pushes down her bra straps and unhooks her bra, revealing her perfectly round tits. She climbs on the chair and straddles Michael, whose hands are obediently resting on the armrests. 

As she rests her ass onto Michael’s lap, she can feel his impossibly hard erection. If she wanted to be mean, she could just grind down onto his cock until he cums in his pristine suit pants. She can’t imagine it’d take longer than a minute.

But she doesn’t want to do that, not again. It  _ is  _ his birthday, after all. 

Instead, she lifts up her hips enough so that there’s no friction between them and places his head right in-between her tits. He used to love this. Judging by his muffled moans, he still seems to. He doesn’t make much of an attempt to escape. She glances at each of his hands, which are gripping the armrests for dear life. Krystal tugs at the back of his short hair so he looks up at her. She presses her lips hard against his, and it quickly turns into a heated kiss. She wraps her arms around his broad shoulders and she settles down onto his lap. Their tongues swirl and Krystal rocks her hips against Michael’s cock. 

Michael can’t help but put his hands on her. Krystal ends the kiss just as fast as it started.

“You were doing  _ so _ well, too…” Krystal says with put-upon sadness. 

“C’mon, Ama-- _ Krystal _ , I can be so--” Michael’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt at the same time that Krystal turns around and slowly tugs down her underwear. She stays bent over to have Michael get a nice view. “--Fucking  _ amazing _ .” He finishes, his hand palming himself through his pants. 

“You want your present now?” Krystal asks, shaking her ass.

“Baby, I wanted my present as soon as I saw you.” Michael says, still staring at her bent over. He quickly unbuckles his pants and gets his throbbing cock out. He manages to conjure up enough spit to lube himself up before Krystal walks over. She straddles him once again, this time sliding down on his cock. As soon as she envelops him, it feels as if his bones have turned to jelly. The smell of peach body oil radiates off of her skin and it intoxicates him (even more than he already is).    


“You can touch me, you know,” Krystal whispers into his ear. He wraps his arms tight around her waist as she slowly rocks her hips. He tries to thrust up into her, but he knows he’ll blow his load if he tries to go at his usual pace. 

Even though he’s leaving it to Krystal’s pace, he feels the long-awaited build-up in the pit of his stomach. 

“Mand--Krystal,” he buries his head into her chest and he wraps his arms around her tighter. “  I'm gonna--”

“Cum for me, birthday boy,” she moans in her light voice as she picks up her pace by a half step. It’s enough for Michael. By the way she’s rocking her hips, his orgasm is slow-coming but powerful. He can feel his legs shake under her, and the only sound he makes is a stifled moan which is buried by her tits. Krystal continues to ride through his orgasm, and it feels like Michael’s going to just pass out from the intensity. His arms lax and Krystal stops riding his slowly softening cock.    
  
“Fuckin’ A, Krystal,” Michael says, breathing hard. Krystal kisses his cheek and whispers, “happy birthday, Michael,” in her sweet voice. She gets off of him, cum slowly dripping out of her.

“Ugh, I need to get cleaned up.” Amanda says, wiping the cum off of her inner thigh. “Do you want to shower with me?”

Michael gets up from the chair, slowly. “Nah, I’ll just get cleaned up tomorrow morning. I'm fuckin’ beat.”

“I sure hope so,  _ birthday boy _ .” Amanda says the ending phrase in her Krystal voice. She goes off to the bathroom without saying another word. 

  
Michael goes to the closet to find his pajamas. As he strips down to nothing, he glimpses at himself in the mirror. Instead of seeing the washed-up, fifty year-old man, he sees a washed-up, fifty year-old man who just had an  _ amazing _ orgasm. Maybe being an older man still has its merits….


End file.
